Team ROSE: The White Pawn
by Archenarcaleptc
Summary: This is a parallel spinoff of Walkman355's RWBY spinoff "RWBY: The Darkness Within", and will follow the events of Ragnar and his team as the hunters and huntresses to be, learn and train to fight the Grimm all while trying not to strangle each other Rated M
1. Chapter 1

Authors Notes: Alright, first story ever, I don't own anything except the OC Ragnar. This story is meant to coincide with Walkman355's "RWBY: The Darkness Within" For those curious of...well, Ragnar and his team. So if you stumbled on this, I suggest searching for said title and reading that first, otherwise I hope you guys end up enjoying what I write. Wish me luck, then criticize and/or compliment.

Chapter 1: Ragnar's Arrival

The breeze was warm, a lot warmer than he was used to, and the air felt thick, harder to breath. There was less humidity in his home to the north. Ragnar stood on the foredeck of the ship, his new dark leather duster stirring in the wind as he stared ahead. It wasn't exactly cheap, but it was the one of the few things on the ship that fit his bulky frame and was better suited for the weather. Ragnar suppressed a sigh as he thought "_I swear, sometimes my size is a curse."_ The sea stretched far beyond his vision. It was a little unnerving not being able to see the land, but he took that over flying. Now that isn't natural, if man was meant to fly, we would be born with wings. The sun beat down overhead, and Ragnar ran a hand back through his dark brown hair. He kept it short, so it was more over than through, but that was all the more reason for him to make a mental note to find a hat sometime. He would be damned if he started his first year at Beacon Academy with a sunburn, so he turned on his heel and headed back to his quarters.

The boat itself was a modern monstrosity, it didn't even have a mast, favoring the use of dust as a fuel. It carried supplies and other trade goods, and it even took on passengers, mostly traveling merchants like the one he bought his duster from, but also anyone else wanting to pay their way. The latter of which was more and more rare due to air travel, but there would always be people who couldn't afford it, or didn't trust it. On his way back, Ragnar let his hand drag along the smooth wooden beams that were ratcheted to the deck. He probably chopped some of the trees down that made them, a pang of home sickness hit him but he choked it down and continued on.

Okay, maybe quarters was too strong of a word, his 'living space' on the ship was about the size of a broom closet with just enough room to hang a mesh hammock, thank the stars that this voyage would end the next day. His personal belongings were under the hammock, which only consisted of his bag and weapon. The bag was simple enough, Olive drab in color, two straps for the arms, and loaded with ...stuff. Need to know basis. Two harness' covered the sides, one on left side for his canteen, and one on the right for Red Morn'. Ah, the axe, such an elegant weapon, or at least it might as well have been for the laughs it got, it's blade has a 'unique' quality. The color of it was somewhere in the hot spectrum dependant on how the light hit it. Sometimes it was red, others it was orange, and unfortunately most of the time it was, well...Pink...Even now, with no light it was still a muted pink. At least the rest of it was black.

Ragnar pulled the short-hafted axe out of it's harness and slipped a rag from his bag before settling down on the hammock and beginning to wipe the blade as he glared at it. The blade itself was stylized in the half-moon fashion, the kind meant for killing, not the wedge shape for those of trees. After a quick minute wiping the blade, Ragnar reached for his bag again and pulling out an oil which was applied sparingly to the rag before wiping down the blade once more. The oil kept the blade from rusting, you would be surprised how much damage just the air of the sea can do to a weapon, so he made sure it got a fresh coat every day. Not that there was much else to do, but he did care about his weapon, he put a little bit of himself in it when he made it after all.

When he was satisfied with the coat of oil, he replaced Red Morn' back in it's harness, and the rag'n'oil back in the bag before shoving it back under the hammock and laying back to stare at the ceiling. This...was the most...BORING trip ever, maybe next time he would take an aircraft despite his mistrust of flight. He would have probably been able to spend the last few days at home with his family, not wasting his time at sea. Lesson learned.

He must have fallen asleep because he woke to someone rapping on his door. Thusly, the tiny room finally showed it's perk, he didn't even have to get up to open the door, just lean, reach, and tug, and all while still mostly relaxing. "Yeah?" He questioned toward the open door. "The captain wishes all passengers to know that we have now docked in Vale, and those departing should make their way." Came the reply, which was no sooner said before Ragnar heard the man start walking away. _"We arrived ahead of schedule?"_ He wondered, before slipping from the hammock and throwing his bag over his shoulder.

When he made his way up on deck, the first thing he noticed was the light...or the lack of._ "It must be the dead of bloody night right now."_ Approaching one of the deck hands that was already unloading cargo, Ragnar asked, "Hey, do you have the time?"  
"Round'about one, one thirty."  
"Man, you guys keep this up and people will think you lot are smugglers." As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it, completely. There was a crisp metallic ring in the air...one of a weapon being drawn...and behind him of all places. _"Fan-fucking-tastic."_

Additional Note: If it wasn't obvious, the italicized quotes, are thoughts, and not verbally conveyed. Sorry if there was any confusion.


	2. Chapter 2: Smugglers? Really?

A/N: I actually had a lot of fun writing this part, so I hope you all have fun reading it. It seemed a lot longer in my head when I was writing it though.

Chapter Two: Smugglers!? Really!?

Just to reiterate... "Smugglers!? ...Really!?" After the smuggler behind him drew his weapon, the one in front gave a sigh. "Great, real great Jasp, now we really do have to kill him." He said while drawing a dagger from behind him. There was no rasp of metal to this one so Ragnar only assumed it was stowed in his sash rather than a sheath, but the threat still hung in the air just the same. "Whoah, whoah, easy..umm I was only joking, couldn't we just all forget this happened?" He supplied as he held up his left hand, palm open in a "Don't hurt me" kinda way. The unnamed smuggler looked to be mulling it over when Jasp piped up with, "Well, if we let him go Vin, we won't have to clean blood off the deck." Ragnar couldn't help but jump on board that statement. "Yeah! Great idea Jasp, I'm starting to like you, I don't die, you guys don't have to work so hard, I say that's about even right?" At the mention of Jasp, all the mulling over ended and Vin took a determined stride forward, _"So far so bad, if I don't do something, these guys are really gonna attack me."_ Ragnar thought as he raised his left hand a bit higher and taking a step back. "Come on guys, I don't mean any harm, I swear it was a joke, I'm not gonna say anythin', what would the captain say about this?"

At the very last comment, Vin let off with a glare. "We will find out, Jasp, go inform the captain as to our ..."impass." And you." He said, keeping his dagger pointed at Ragnar, "Will stay right as you are." It was only a few moments before the captain emerged from his cabin with Jasp at his side. "Why 'ent you workin' Vin?!" The captain boomed, annoyance painting his weathered face. "This boy knows that we are smugglers Cap'n." This caused the captain to do a double take on Ragnar before saying "So why ain't he dead yet?!"  
"Hey now, give me a break captain, you are carrying Oakfeld lumber, and you have probably done so for a while now right?" Ragnar interjected. "So in the interest of keeping a good work relationship, I should be allowed to go free, and you still get to work with my family in good faith. No authorities involved." and gave what he thought was his most winning smile. But the captain just grinned and laughed a bit before he turned to leave, saying, "We will be sure to visit your family...but you aren't leaving this ship alive. It'll be that much easier to extort them that way."

Ragnar felt his stomach drop to his feet. _"Well, that didn't end well, it just stalled them...note to self, don't joke about smugglers, and learn to shut up."_ He sighed and started steeling his nerves, trying to take in everything around him. Jasp was circling behind him, Vin in front, the captain decided to turn back and watch the blood sport, the other smugglers were still unloading and seemed to try their best not to pay attention. Hopefully that meant they wouldn't interfere. "Drop the bag, we wouldn't want our new merchandise to get all bloody" Vin bit out in between giddy laughs.

A smirk played on Ragnar's lips before he said "Alright." and let the bag slip from his shoulder. He got to see the suspicious confusion in Vin's eyes just as the bag hit the deck with a dense thud, and a metallic 'schink' as Red Morn's haft extended to it's full length. Ragnar spun, his duster flaring as he grabbed the haft and swung the blade into the side of Vin's head. Or at least that is what he thought would happen, he was surprised when he heard a 'thud' instead of a 'slash'. Apparantly when he swung, the axe didn't make it free of it's harness...so the bag went with it, smashing into the side of Vin's head.

Ragnar was a little thrown off to say the least, he even almost got stabbed in the back. But with a quick pull, he brought the end of the haft back and smacking Jasp square in the nose, sending the man stumbling back. With that, Ragnar turned and gave his weapon a nice golf swing that let the axe finally clear it's harness, and threw the bag straight into Jasp's chest, knocking the wind out of him. Ragnar watched as the man tried to catch his breath, but it didn't come. The bag probably broke some ribs that punctured his lungs. _"That's a terrible way to go" He thought_." When Jasp dropped to his knees, drooling blood, Ragnar turned to the captain and gave a whistle that said "I'm impressed." Hopefully the sarcasm wasn't wasted. "Maybe I should visit YOUR family Captain, I just seem so prone to unfortunate accidents 'n' all." The captain gave a glare so menacing, that if looks could kill, all life within ten miles would have died. Well, at least he understood a threat when he heard one.

"Damnit! Someone kill him already!" shouted the captain. Ragnar put his axe to the ready and looked around. All of the smugglers that had stopped to witness the deaths of the two, gave the captain a frightened look that said "You are out of your mind, he just killed two people...WITH A BAG!" before hurrying back to work. Ragnar let off a sigh of relief. "Damn you all! I swear I'll feed ya to the Grimm!" the captain barked before striding toward Ragnar while drawing a pistol. 'BANG! BANG!'_ "SHIT, SHIT, SHIT."_ The noise broke Ragnar from his composure and he cursed mentally as he rushed to take cover behind the stacks of wooden beams. _"Okay, gun, bad, what now, what now!?"_ he paniced.

The captain fired off two rounds before his quandry up and hid on him, it had to be the worst place for him though. He almost laughed at the thought, this boy took cover at the end of a pile of wood, and there was nowhere else to go without him getting a clear shot. This was so easy, he wondered how stupid those other men were to have died so quickly. He walked along-side the beams slowly and watched as the axe shifted slightly. "What kind of man wields an axe with a pink blade?" He asked with a chortle. "I thought you looked too big to be a priss!" "Or maybe you had preferred men over women!?" He had just a few more paces to the corner. "Doesn't matter now anyway, because you'll be dead right...about..." The captain swung himself around the corner, his pistol aimed at an empty space. The axe left leaning against the beams."Now." Finished the boy's voice from behind him, a sharp pain blossoming just above the heel of his left foot, it wouldn't keep his weight any longer, he fell, his right leg trying to compensate, but only managing to turn him. He landed with his ass on the deck, and his back against the lumber and his arms spread. Blood started pooling under his calve and foot, and he looked up to just now notice the boy with a knife in hand, his gray-blue eyes looked vacant. "What are you?" he growled through gritted teeth as he tried to raise his pistol to his adversary, but it was quickly pinned down. He watched the scene before him, it seemed distant, almost like it wasn't happening, until the knife was driven through his forearm and into the beams behind it.

The captain howled in pain, and Ragnar watched the pistol drop from his hand. He stood, and moved over to retrieve his axe, careful to avoid stepping in the blood as he went and returned to the captain. When he was sure the captain could hear him again, he said "Tell me, Captain, do you know of a rhyme that fortells weather at sea?" The captain gave a dreary unfocused look before grunting out, "...Why?" "Well, first, to answer you what I am, I am a warrior, and will be a hunter. Second..." he then points at his axe. "This beauty, her name is Red Morn'." A sluggish realization and horror came to the captain's face just as Ragnar beheaded him.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I own nothing.

Chapter Three: I'm Off A Boat!

The head slowly lolled forward off the axe and landed between the legs of it's own corpse. Pulling his weapons free of the wooden beams, he states "Now who's the one preferring men." With a little snicker, Ragnar wiped the blood off his weapons onto the corpse's clothing and moved to grab his bag. Retracting the haft, he put Red Morn' back in it's harness before lifting the bag back over his shoulder and putting his arm through the other strap so that it fit comfortably on his back. Upon his way to disembark, another man stepped into his path. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes he readied for another fight, at which point the man waved his arms and took a step back saying "No, no, nononono, I was thecaptain's second in command, and with his current..." He glanced over to the ever growingpool of blood and back. "Situation...I have taken his place. And thusly give it to you." Ragnar eased up, arching an eyebrow.

"You want me...to be a captain of smugglers?"

The man shook his head. "Nay, of the ship, I assure you that after this fiasco is all cleaned up, our party will be disband."

"So I get a boat, and you guys clean up, all for free?"

A grimace came to the smuggler's face, "When you say it like that..."

Ragnar cut him off, "Alright, hurry up and clean this ship up, move your damn inventory, and get me whatever paper makes me the owner."

"The latter is in the Capt...your cabin, the keys are on his..." The man shivered visibly. "The old captain." He stated before turning on his heels and giving orders to the other smugglers.

_"...Okaaaay, great, loot the dead guy and his room, no problem."_ Ragnar thought as he went back to the corpse to fetch the keys._ "This is disgusting"_ he sighed whilst he pulled the keys free, still careful to avoid getting blood on himself. When he opened the door to the cabin, he expected something small or plain...you know, something practical and not fancy. Well, he was partly right, none of it was fancy. Gaudy was more like it. A large bed, a large table, dressers, end tables, tapestries, and a map dominating most of one wall. Everything in it was big, but sadly they were all the type of furniture that were cheap, but made to look expensive. Fake gilt lined most of the furnishings. The only thing that might have been authentic was the map...but a map is a map is a map. Then his eyes lit upon the desk and a chest. _"Something has to be in those...right?"_

Ragnar started rifling through the desk. "No... no... no... bingo, document of ownership." he said aloud before looking down the document for a signature and foundloops and squiggles... "Works for me." he stated as he folded up the paperwork and placed it in a small pocket on his bag. Next was the chest. "A key lock...Well, looks like I'm going to have to smash it!" he exclaimed while reaching over his shoulder for Red Morn'.

"...Waaaaiiit..." Ragnar's hand went to the keys he pulled off of the dead captain as he squatted and tried his luck. 'click.' Inside the chest was what looked like armor. It wasn't much, the plates were a dulled gray color, and the way they overlapped looked a lot like an arm from wrist to shoulder. "A half of an arm." Ragnar noted as he pulled it out. The inner side had a light layer of leather hide, and leather straps to bind it to the arm, it seemed to be made for the left at that. And...well, he couldn't help but try it out. Taking off his duster, Ragnar placed it against his arm and strapped the plates down. It was a very close fit, it was light, and as he moved his arm around to test it out, he noticed that his range of motion wasn't hindered, and the metal didn't make noise. Satisfied, Ragnar pulled the duster back on and continued looking through the chest._ "Armor, and a 'little' bit of money"_ Ragnar thought as he started lining his pockets._ "Wonder how much that armor is worth if it was sitting in here."_ He pushed the thought away when he found a ring._ "Platinum? Silver?"_ The ring was shiney whatever it was made of. _"Well, I'm not one for jewelry but no harm in trying right?"_ he rationalized as he slid it on his ring finger. After a moment of studying it on his hand he went to pull it off again. .._."!?"._.. Ragnar grunts as he starts to wrench at the ring, but to no avail. "You went on easy, how are you stuck!?" he shouted at the ring as he continued to pull, a mix of anger and agony twisting his face before he let go with a growl, glaring at the ring.

Ragnar took a few moments to calm down before closing the lid of the now empty chest with a sigh. "You win some, you lose some right?" he said to himself... _"Doesn't help that I lost to a ring though."_ Ragnar thought as he stood and started toward the door "Hello, how did I miss this?" he asked, the question hanging in the air as he approached the liqour cabinet. "Better late than never I suppose, maybe I should consider keeping this place after all." he added as he pulled down a bottle of whiskey. When he turned to leave again, he actually made it out the door.

Leaving gave him a nice little sight of the smugglers throwing the corpses overboard, and thankfully tied to rocks. Ragnar closed the cabin door behind him, turning the key in the lock until another audible 'click' sounded. _"Alright, cabin locked, corpses being disposed of, the blood should be washed away soon. I'm out of here."_ And it was only a matter of seconds before his boots thudded across the gangplank and scuffed onto the concrete. Taking a glance over his shoulder he read "D.S. Valkyr." "Not a bad name for a ship." _"My ship."_ he corrected himself. Looking around the dark harbor area, deserted except the working men, a strange thought came to him "...Was I just smuggled?" He couldn't help but laugh.

The commercial district. It was probably a charming place to be by day. Ragnar could imagine the hustle and bustle, hell, there were probably even criers to call out wares to the roaming people. But damn, at this time of night, when nobody was out, it was almost scary...Not that he would ever admit to being scared. Ragnar gave a sigh _"What time did that one guy say it was again?"_ Shadows shifted and danced in Ragnar's peripheral vision, making his eyes dart nervously. "Easy, just relax, it is just your imagination." he told himself before biting down on the cork stopper and wrenching it out of the bottle. _"And I have just the thing to do it."_

Just as he took a swig, something under his boot made a crunch. Ragnar stopped mid stride and took a step back, looking down to see what he stepped on, but the burn of the alcohol made him cough and shake his head. When he managed to focus again, a good sized piece of glass, now crushed into smaller fragments, lay where his foot had been. A few more glints of reflected light were scattered about, and he noticed a plank of plywood covering what was left of a shop's window. _"Most of it has been taken care of, so it has been a day at the least ...nothing to do here."_ he thought before taking another swig and continuing to walk.

Some time later, a look at the bottle told him it was half gone. **"Who's been drinkin' my drink? There's no way I drank half of this!"** That alone came out a lot more slurred than he would have liked, louder too. He also noticed that he was stumbling a lot more as he walked. _"Where am I?"_ came a weak thought before bringing the bottle back up to his lips. He never did bother trying to get the answer, maybe because he didn't care, or maybe because he was too trashed._ "Didn't I kill people?"_ Okay, that one he pushed away with yet another drink. _"Don't need to dwell on that."_ Ragnar leaned against a wall to recuperate. He could hear the faint sounds of a fight echoing from somewhere. _"Not my problem!" _was the last thing he remembered as he pushed off the wall.

Additional Notes: I would like to point out the separate references, the first was the shop "From Dust Till Dawn", and the second was Knives intro fight from "RWBY: The Darkness Within." (As formerly mentioned, I don't own anything.)


	4. Chapter 4: The Hangover

A/N: Okay, first off, I have to apologize for how long this took me to post. Sorry. But honestly, this is the first time this story would converge with the actual one. It is a spinoff, but it still has to follow the original in a somewhat linear fashion. And then I am also paralleling to Walkman's, so I had to figure out which way I wanted to play it without writing anything that happened in RWBY (honestly, I don't want to write it, and I doubt anyone would want to read it when they can watch it.) So, as my first fanfic, I found it to be my starting challenge. Also, one of my favorite things about writing these, are the chapter titles, so far they have been a reference to something. For example, this one is referring to the movie, and will most likely have a part II and part III (just something to look forward to.) And to finish this off, I own nothing, not even the title.

Chapter Four: The Hangover

Green and white, the crisp smell of pine, snow, and charred wood, the crackle of a campfire. Ragnar turned his head as he heard the crunch of his siblings boots through the snow. His sister returning with more firewood, the fair haired girl pulling a sled behind her. His brother dragging their food to be, his face expressionless under a mop of red locks. Ragnar took a better look at the sled when his sister passed... it looked a lot like the boat he was on not long ago, even the wooden beams on the deck were strapped down. "Great, this again." he thought nervously, turning back to his brother to shout a warning. But nothing came.

It never did.

He tried to move, but was helpless to watch. The dragged beast twisted and rose to it's paws before it clamped it's jaws around his brother's wrist, tearing off his hand. Bright red blood splattered, staining the snow and matting the beast's dark brown fur, it continued spurting from the stump that his brother was now clutching in shocked disbelief. Ragnar stood, a sword materializing in his hands as he faced the enormous wolf. He wanted to strike in rage, but his actions were not his own. The wolf's gray-blue eyes kept him pinned as it circled, or maybe it was just the dream. When it leapt, time slowed, it's teeth closing in for the kill. Ragnar was ready though, and thrust the sword up into it's upper jaw. At the moment of connection, time seemed to make up for the lapse by moving faster, a flood bursting from the wolf's mouth.

Ragnar flailed, fighting the torrent for air, but the conflict was over in a matter of seconds. He noticed a couple things all at once; the most prominent was the light searing his eyes, then there was the aching throb in his head that the light certainly wasn't helping, his mouth was dry, his opponent for the morning was a newspaper, and someone very nearby was laughing his ass off. He had seen worse days, but when you wake up fighting for dear life against an inanimate object, you kind of have to reassess them. As his eyes adjusted he decided to question the man.  
"What time is it?" he groaned wearily.  
The man paused to check his watch. "About five minutes before nine."  
"Why were you laughing so hard?"  
"A half dead lookin' man layin' out in the sun, an' I had just put the paper over your face to keep the sun out of your eyes, then you just freaked out!" the man bit out between laughs, "Completely made my day."  
"Glad somebody is having a good one...hey, you wouldn't be able to tell me where I am would you?"  
"You don't know?"  
"I had a lot to drink." Ragnar said as he started taking in the grounds, his eyes finally easing up.  
"Ah, well, you are in front of the Beacon Academy, you couldn't have picked a more public place to take a nap up here."  
"Really? Isn't it on a cliff? How the hell did I get up here?"  
"Sorry, couldn't tell ya, but I assume if you didn't fly, you must have climbed."

Ragnar turned and hopped off the bench, immediately regretting it, the dull throb returning in force. He brought his hand up to his head and nursed it for a moment."Thanks." he said before slowly bending to pick up his bag. "But I need to get gone." "Fare thee well." the man said before walking off. Ragnar swore he could hear more laughter in his words.

"Man, I need a little hair of the wolf that bit me." At that, Ragnar's thoughts went to his dream. _"For more than one reason, let's call it multi-tasking."_ The area seemed pretty clean, normally that is a good thing, but now he wanted something in the shape of a bottle, with a magical elixir that dulls pain, and apparently makes you forget things, "Right when I need it, my alcohol goes AWOL on me, fan-fucking-tastic." he cursed. Every step he took, the throbbing pain in his head decided to punctuate it's existance, and the rattle and clink of his bag didn't help either."I swear, I'm never going to drink that much ever ..." Ragnar stopped and put his bag at his feet, quickly (to even more regret) kneeling over it. _"My bag doesn't ever make noise like that!"_ he thought as he opened it, and a sigh passed his lips. "Thank the stars." came his voice in an almost euphoric tone. The bottle he withdrew still had about a quarter of the contents left. Pulling out the rag he had used as a stopper, he took a swig, coughed, and replaced said rag._ "Looks like I will have to deal with the clinking a little while longer though. Back in the bag with you."_

_"Did I really climb up a cliff while drunk?"_ he wondered as he headed toward what he hoped was the main entrance._ "Maybe I found an elevator...some stairs? Or maybe I teleported?"_ Ragnar barely kept himself from snorting laughter at the thought. Either way, it actually scared him, he could have fallen and died. "Next time, I'm flying for sure." Ragnar nodded to himself as he made his way slowly to the Academy proper. He certainly didn't want to hurt himself more, and the sudden flow of people passing him made him believe he was going the right way, so why rush?

It wasn't long before Ragnar stumbled his way into an intersection of pathways. It only felt like forever. The rush of people had become a slow trickle, and some of the more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed people were conversing and taking in the sights.  
_"This is taking forever!"_ he mentally whined.  
_"That is what you get for drinkin' too much." _  
_"And now you are talking to yourself, great!"_ sounded a sarcastic cheer.  
A pair of girls chatted nearby, and Ragnar passed them by at his slow stagger, and a few moments later he heard a few things that made him pick up his pace; loud complaining, an explosion, and then yelling. A few minutes had passed before he range walked past a second altercation. The only saving grace was that the yelling was cut short when, _"...Wait, is that a coffin? Right, yeah."_ When a coffin practically flattened one of them. Ragnar didn't slow until he stepped through the main hall's threshold, hopefully it was a safe haven from... Well, whatever the hell was happening back out there.

On the inside, the beating sunlight was replaced by glorious shade, and the young warrior breathed a sigh of relief as he resisted the urge to close, lock, and barricade the door behind him. _"I've only been here a short while, and in some sense witnessed two spats. Plenty of people have huge chips on their shoulders, and egos the size of mountains, lets not forget teen angst! This is going to be a long year."_

The large hall ...auditorium? It was some kind of gathering place whatever it was... had a good amount of people already in attendance, somwhere between full and too crowded to breathe. A light clamor accompanied the persons, as with every congregation. Ragnar's gawking was cut short by another youthful warrior shoving past him, spitting "Move it." over his shoulder as he went. "This day just gets better and better." Ragnar sarcastically pointed out as he moved away from the entrance, finding a nice empty space of wall to press his back against, dropping the bag at his feet once more and crossing his arms.

Not long into his role of immitating buttress and holding up the wall, the people filing in had stopped, but not without making it a little more cramped. People had started pressing in on personal bubbles. One of these bubbles was Ragnar's of course, but from the scowl he got from the woman going to stand next to him, it was like she believed it was his fault. He wasn't staring or anything, but she was lithe, slim, and her hair was a little ...auburn? ...maybe chesnut. She leaned against the wall next to him, and folded her own arms, she was about chest high on him, and she didn't have much of a bosom... guys notice these things. Ragnar lifted an arm to flash a clipped wave saying, "Hey." (Smooth right?) before crossing it again. At which the woman turned her head back to him, amber eyes boring into his skull. Ragnar thought he saw the corner of her lip turn up into a smirk, maybe he imagined it, but the room quited and all heads turned as Ozpin took the stage.

A/N Questions and concerns, message, review, do it. I could use the constructive criticism.


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